Finally
by BollyKnickers
Summary: Drabble. Harry/Nikki. It wasn't ever going to be perfect. Not by any conventional meaning of the word. But to him, it was everything. Rated M just to be safe, but it isn't graphic in the least.


**A/N: I don't know if this is very in character... to be honest, I think after 6 years of sexual tension, I find it unlikely that they are just going to sit down and talk and kiss like that, suddenly end up together. This seemed more plausible to my brain.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Witness. If I did, this would have happened a long time ago.**

He always dreamed that when it finally happened, when everything boiled over and they couldn't stop themselves any longer, couldn't deny that they'd wanted this all along even just a second more, it would happen like this. There wouldn't be one signifying moment that lead them to this point. No life-flashing-before-your-eyes realisation, just one day they'd wake up and something would somehow be different. It wouldn't be perfect, wouldn't begin with a beautiful admission or a gentle kiss. Not a story to tell the grandchildren (he was getting ahead of himself there, anyway). It would be the result of almost six years of pent up emotion and sexual tension, and, in it's own special way it _would_ be perfect, just not in any kind of traditional sense. It had been the same the first time they'd kissed; he had done it to shut her up. Not exactly romantic, but they'd gone home with grins on their faces. It had gone wrong, but this time would be just the same, but with a happy ending.

He was right.

He was working on a body in the cutting room. A pretty ordinary case of natural causes, but he had to go through the motions, make sure he hadn't missed anything before signing it off as a heart attack. By all understandings of the word, it had been a 'normal' day.

As soon as Harry had discarded his gloves and headed to the locker room, that description was no longer relevant.

The sound of heels clicking across floor at some fast pace alerted him to his colleague's pursuit, rather quicker than she normally walked. He guessed she was on a mission of some sort, either to tease him, or yell at him. He wasn't quite sure which, although he couldn't think of a reason for her to be mad.

What had actually happened had, at least mildly, surprised him.

Before he knew what was happening, her lips were pressed against his, silently willing for his mouth to open and allow her access, her hands firmly holding his head still, not that they needed to. He moved his hands to her waist, deepening the kiss, hoping to any higher being that this wasn't a dream or another one of his fantasies. He couldn't have made this up, right?

When she finally pulled away, coming up for air more than anything else, she had a questioning smirk on her face. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"And hello to you too Dr. Alexander," he said somewhat breathlessly, emphasis on using her full, formal title.

Before he could get another word in, she was on him again, moaning 'I need you' into his mouth, her hands already tugging at the jumper he had only moments ago pulled on.

He gently pushed her away, despite the knowledge that the moment he did so, he would regret it. Her expression formed into a sort of pout and she cocked her head to one side before finally speaking audibly.

"How did the date last night go?" she asked, hands on her hips, that signature smirk of hers coming out to play again.

Harry almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the moment, "you really want to know?"

"No," Nikki admitted, still smirking at him like the cat that had the cream and just could not wait to tell someone about it, but it couldn't be him. He briefly wondered whether she was sober, but Nikki was not the type to turn up to work drunk. And everybody knew when she'd been drinking; she was unable to stay upright. Whether that meant ending up on the floor, or in some man's bed was irrelevant.

"Are we not going to talk about this at all?" he asked, now fairly amused himself, even if he was still utterly baffled. Him going on a date didn't normally result in a make out session with his best friend, he had to, however reluctantly, admit. And it wasn't like this was the first date he'd had in a while either. Part of him didn't want to question Nikki's thought process; he'd wanted her as long as he could remember, just somehow he'd pushed it to the back of his mind and tried not to think about it. At least whilst awake. But part of him needed to know where this was coming from.

Nikki shook her head, approaching him again, looping her thumbs in the belt holes in his jeans, pulling him closer, "we're both adults Harry, we know what this is,"

He kind of lost track of his train of thought once she was pressed against him again, kissing his neck, her hands dangerously close to slipping inside the waistband of his jeans. He considered where they were, the likelihood that Leo would walk in at any second, how inappropriate this whole thing was. But he couldn't quite bring himself to care. The least he could do was tug them into the women's shower room, where very few members of staff were likely to go. Nikki giggled, her mouth not leaving his as they made their way inside, and she pushed him against one of the tiled walls.

His jeans were off before he even knew what was happening. It wasn't the perfect collaboration; teeth clashed as they kissed, limbs got in the wrong places. He struggled to keep upright, and she left scratches all over his back. No fireworks went off, no sweet little song playing in the background or confessions of love (he wanted to, but not yet). It was fast and messy and everything he'd expected it to be. And when they were done, once they'd got their breath back, Nikki had twisted her skirt the right way, put her blouse back on, and that was that. She'd left the room before he even had a chance to say anything, leaving him in the women's shower room to get dressed and attempt to go back to a normal day at work.

As if that was going to happen.


End file.
